Love like Chocolate

Sweet, is something small, that we experience inside of us. A feeling that we savor and truly delight in. Adults (ladies) turn to chocolate in many cases, as a source of comfort when their emotions are aflame. A child desires sweets constantly, for it's pleasure is pure and comforting, and their heart has not yet been defiled by pursuits of a perverted and/or self indulgent nature. 


I am reminded of the kids that I was privileged enough to get to know in Zimbabwe, Africa this summer. They, like almost every child, love sweets. They let you know it too, every day we would smile as they would run up to us and demand, "gimme my sweeties!" That might sound rude or controlling, but their lack of skills in the english language had limited them to that saying. I'm sure that if they had a better understanding of our complex form of communication, they would have politely asked, "excuse me my good white friend, I was just wondering if, by chance, you had happened upon some treats of a sweet and delightful nature, and if so, if you at all felt compelled to share them with me? I would greatly appreciate it, thank you." Either way, I understood them. So, why is this relevant? Well, whenever I was feeling generous enough to give them one of my Clif bars or Cadbury chocolates, they would rejoice, thank me, and immediately go to their friends and break off even pieces for all. They shared freely, none of them had to ask, their friends were willing to go to them, and give them a piece of their sugary joy. Why? Because they knew they had found something special, something delightful, and they wanted to bring that delight to their brothers and sisters. So together, they sat, smiling, glowing really, enjoying that simple pleasure for all that it was, not needing any excess, just enough to get a taste.


As I was reminiscing on this, my stomach began to twist a bit. I realized just how sick this world has become. Just how selfish it has become. My mother recently went to a convention on slavery in the world today. She came back baffled at all that she had not known. She went specifically to learn about human sex trafficking, to research organizations that help to rescue sex slaves. She soon learned that sex trafficking is only a small portion of all the human trafficking and slavery that is rampant in the world today, and America is not detached from this, not at all, a majority of our consumer  goods have been, at least partially, manufactured through slave labor. The one product that really stood out to my mother, was chocolate. Almost every major chocolate brand is connected to slave labor. Slave children who are losing their fingers harvesting cocoa beans in the fields with machetes. Kids who spend all there time working to collect beans to make a candy, they have never even tasted. It makes me sick. 


How twisted are we in this world, in this society? We are misers, we are hoarders, we are pirates. We live to consume. We will take all of something, even something sweet like chocolate, and we pervert it, dilute it, and sell it to fullfill our own passions of personal-gain, literally, we have no quarrels with taking lives in order to get things cheaper and make greater profits. 
(Now I know there are many readers who at this point are thinking, "okay, here we go again, another philanthropic blog to go along with all those damn puppy commercials to try and make me feel guilty for living and spending." I know, it can get tiring hearing about all the worlds problems, but that doesn't mean we should ignore them, don't feel guilty, at least recognize the issue, and give it the respect it deserves.)


The whole purpose of this blog is not only to bring awareness to this issue, but to also draw a parallel.


Listen: What a portrait this is to the love of Jesus. We often hear in songs, and in poetry, Jesus being called, Sweet Jesus. Like sweets, his love is easy to attain, it is simple, and delightful. Sure, Christianity can get complex, and living a Christ-like life can be hard, but his message of love remains the most simple and sweet part of the entire religion. It is the backbone to our faith. (although that idea seems to have been lost for many, who have made judgement and rules the message they preach to the lost.) Just think, if we treated this sweet love, like the children in Zimbabwe treat their sweets. If only we savored it like the children, for what it is, and shared it with those around us because we want to make them happy. This world we be a different place, (cliche, but so true). People would be generally happier, and joyous, because instead of hoarding and perverting everything, including the love of Jesus, they would savor it, share it with one another.


It would be a world where people valued life. Where people gave a damn about strangers, where people would not be weirded out if you smiled at them on the street, or winked at their young children just to see them smile. Unfortunately, our evil nature causes us to value paper, metal, and sexual gratification more than we value a soul and a beating human heart. What is a man to do? 


Make the change in your own life, LOVE those around you. That is all it takes. If you abstain from wrath, pessimism, and selfishness, your entire life will change. I am not perfect, I am just as evil as anyone else, but I am realizing that the only way I can ever be happy, is if I love those around me, and treat friends, family, strangers with respect. Care about their problems, listen. It is not an easy process, and not everyone will be on board, but try to make the little changes in your day to day life, by not getting angry over small things like traffic and long lines. Smile when you feel the urge to grimace. I know this sounds pretty cheesy, but I am finding more and more that the cheesy things hold truth, and more weight than we realize. Jesus Loves people, what is there to dislike about that message, try it on for size.






If you want to learn more about consuming products that are not at all involved in slavery, go to http://www.transfairusa.org/ or http://www.notforsalecampaign.org/

The Station

A Short, Short Story, by Austin Sill

There He sat, once again staring blankly out of the foggy boxcar window. Outside trees of orange and yellow rushed by at a rapid pace, as if they were fleeing some form of evil. His throat clenched bringing his adam's apple high into pillar of his neck. He held it there, closing his eyes and subduing the urge to cry out. His jaw clenched, creating bulges on either side of his face. This bringing a hard intensity to his already weathered appearance. As his face relaxed, he brought his eyes skyward, sinking a little in his luxurious orange-plastic seat, and let out a long afflicted sigh. His attention was then brought to his throne, who designed these seats? Who would ever have thought these looked good, or felt comfortable...There...his eyes clenched like a vice...it happened again... He again, sighed heavily, he had once again let his mind wander from the issue at hand to a subject of such trivial and meaningless value.


As the train came to a screeching halt, he slowly raised himself from his pallid throne and edged his way through the crowded car, toward the blinking red, "EXIT," sign. He accidentally bumped the shoulder of a small, yet seemingly Napoleonic Indian Man. The man was clad in a fresh, but cheap pinstripe shirt, accented with a gold chain and the smell of cheap tequila. The Indian man took his attention from the cell phone he was talking on and shot his "bumping perpetrator," a harsh look of aggressive superiority, and held it until his offender had completely exited the car, and his sight.


The train devoured its new load of people, and trailed off in a new direction. He looked down at the cracked cement outside the train station, then to his work appointed black faux leather shoes, then  averted his gaze, looking off to the left, the opposite direction from which he came. There was a feild, and in it grew tall, green grass, and large obtuse bushes filled with vibrant blooming  flowers. He let out another long breath of air from his bulging cheeks and headed to the nearest bench in sight.


He had been here before, about ten to twelve times if his memory served him right, but he never made the connecting train, he always ended up back where he came from. It was like there was some wall, too high for him to scale, keeping him from that ticket booth. The wall bricked with fear and sealed with ambivalence. He recognized that new life was held within this new direction, but something held him back, a melting pot of pride and distrust. The thought of the unknown scared the hell out of him, is ignorance really bliss, or are we all damned to a life of wondering what could be? So there he sat once again, unsure, torn, without advice. This was all up to him, it was HIS LIFE, and he refused to ask anyone for help, especially, his father. 


Part of him knew, ultimately, he would once again board the returning train, "home,"  but he remained there, on his bench of indecisiveness, clinging to the hope that he had the guts to get the hell out this time.


He realized that he was still wearing his tattered old pack, so he took it off, and went to set it on the vacant half of the bench he was perched on, and that is when he saw him. A man, sitting about ten inches from him, reading a newspaper, completely comfortable as if he had been sitting there for hours and found the perfect niche of comfort. How had he not noticed the man before? Has he been sitting here the whole time? In his baffled state, he didn't realize that his glance had grown to a full fledged stare that was all too conspicuous. 


The stranger turned and looked at him, "Can I help you?" he asked, his demeanor warm, and without annoyance.


"What?" he replied


"Can I help you, Jon?" The stranger again asked, more directly.


Jon was, at first, startled that the man had called him by name, but quickly realized that he was still wearing his name-tag from work.


"OH, uh, no...sorry, I d-didn't mean to stare, you just startled me that's all. I didn't hear you sit down, I'm just in my own little world I guess," replied Jon with a false chuckle. 


"It's quite alright," said the stranger, reassuringly, "I tend to have that sort of effect on people." He had a nice smile on his face, Jon liked it.


Jon smiled back, a half smile, still a bit startled at this mans instant presence. He looked away and tried to again focus on the task at hand. He tried, but he couldn't compose his thoughts, something about this stranger had all of his attention. 


As the stranger returned to his paper, Jon shot quick glances in his direction, sizing him up, trying to read him. Jon always thought he had this sixth sense for figuring situations, and people out just by looking at them, but this guy, he blocked something in his mind. Before he knew it Jon, was staring blatantly at the stranger again, with eyes wide like the sky. The stranger had a face that was hard, but at the same time, comforting, like your father looks to you when you are a boy. He wasn't necessarily an attractive man, he was somewhat average, but something about him kept your gaze for a moment longer that that you give to any other man.


The stranger smiled, and said without looking at Jon, "So, where are you headed?" This taking Jon by surprise, seeing as he was still staring at the man, almost in a trance. John tried to reply, but stammered over his words, "I, oh, um, well you see..." He stopped, stretched out his eyelids real wide, and then relaxing them replied, "I am not really sure where i am heading, I guess you can say I am on an escape mission, or that I'm fighting my way out of my own prison..." John looked to the wall on the opposite side of the station, his face dumb with perplexity. He was astounded that he had replied with such a sure answer, that he was able to voice the complexity of the truth, and that, moreover, he had told the truth to begin with. Normally when he was faced with questions that had personal or complex answers he just lied, putting on the same facade that so many others do, after all, Jon wasn't anyone special, and he was aware of this, why should he waste anyone else's time and energy with his issues, Lord knows he didn't want to deal with any false sympathy anyways, just to have someone talk about his issues to someone else behind his back the very next day.


"Intriguing,"  replied the stranger, without looking up from his paper. "Seems you have a story behind you Jon, I like stories," he ruffled his eyes as if in contemplative thought, sat down his paper and turned to look at Jon, "Talk to me...."


"Well, uh, I don't want to trouble you with..."


"Nonsense," exclaimed the stranger jovially, cutting Jon off, "We have time to kill, my train doesn't leave for a few hours, and you don't even know where you are going as of now, so, talk to me."


"Well, no offense man," Jon said, looking away, "But I don't really know you."


"You haven't tried to know me Jon," said the stranger in a stern, yet strangely friendly tone of voice, "All you have done is look at me, but you haven't really tried to know me, and let's face it, what is the harm in simply talking? Either we sit here in silence, or we talk, either way, I'm still here and you are in the same amount of danger of me hurting you, which is none."


Jon digested the thought, and looked up at the stranger who was smiling again. "I guess you're right," Jon said, straightening out his back, and sitting up. He wondered why the aversion to conversation came so naturally to people, why was there such distrust among us?  I mean, I guess there are bad people out there, but chatting never killed anyone, the key was to just not follow the guy with the free candy, right?


"So, Jon, Talk to me."


"Well, Like I said, I don't really know where I am going, but I get this feeling that there is something more, somewhere better than where I am. I don't know where the feeling comes from, but I can't ignore it anymore, it's too strong." Jon, trailed off from the sentence, feeling a tingling in the back of his throat.


"So, what is stopping you from seeking out this, so called, better place?" the stranger retorted. 


"Well, a number of things, I guess," Jon said, then reached into his pocket and took out a photo, he unfolded it and handed it to the man, "Here is one."


"oh, I see," said the stranger as he surveyed the photo, "She is a very pretty girl, Do you love her?"


Jon closed his mouth and straighted out his neck. This man, this stranger had just forced him to confront an issue he all to often diverted, and who was he to ask it? He barely knew him, but what truly surprised Jon, is that he felt completely comfortable answering, as if the stranger were some old friend he had confided in for years. 


"Well, what is love? I mean, she is a very nice girl, one worth marrying, and like you said, she is very pretty, and so...I should, want, to stay...with her, but...well, ya, I guess I love her." Jon's heart sank a little in his chest, knowing he was playing tricks on himself again.


The stranger listened with an unwavering absorption, as if it were his own son who was opening up to him


Jon continued, on his own this time, after a long pause of introspective thought, "and well, it's not just her... I mean, I have a job, arguably a good job, and I mean, my life is set up there...right?


The stranger nodded without breaking his concentration, and said, " Well Jon, it seems you have everything you need, so the question is not what you are leaving, but why it is that you feel you must leave."


Jon shook his head and looked away, a tear swelling in his right eye, he constrained it and answered, "That is where the problem really begins, I... I don't know."


The stranger again respectfully nodded, "Well then let me ask you this Jon, what gives your life value?"


"Well, from what is value contrived? I guess all the things I just told you, I live with a beautiful girl, I have a good job, where I make good money, and I have a lot of friends, and... god I must sound so disjointed... I am blessed, right?"


The stranger just looked at him, without nodding.


Jon felt his stomach begin to turn, knowing that he was fighting putting on that same all too natural facade, or just ending the conversation, he was even tempted to just get up and run, when, "It's okay Jon, I know it's hard, but please stay, don't run, we are almost there.." John opened his eyes, and his jaw slightly dropped. Did he mention leaving? Did he even hear that voice, or was it in his mind?


Then he looked up at his new friend, who was still there, just waiting to listen, his face ruffled with pain. Why does this guy care so much? His stomach untwisted, and ending the war it was waging against itself. 


"Jon," the stranger spoke, his voice softer and more gentle than any he had ever heard, "In my experience, value is not measured by what you have, or by who you are in comparison to anyone  else on this earth."


Jon swallowed, hard.


"So Jon, let me ask you again, do you love her?"


Silence, Jon's lips quivered, his eyes shot around without focus. he closed his mouth and his eyes, breathed slowly but heavily through his nostrils and croaked out a small pathetic, "no..."


"Then what is it you lack? What are you seeking?"


Jon searched desperately for an answer, his mouth agape. His eyes began to well with tears of desperate frustration, there was no escaping it this time, nothing could mask what this man had drawn out of him. His face grew red and he began to speak, "I feel so alone," he muttered through what seemed to be a clenched throat, "I feel like a crazy person, who when they break down and kill themselves, all their friends are amazed, 'I have no idea why he did it, he had everything a man needs, he seemed fine.'" 


Jon thrust his face into his calloused hands and began to sob, "I don't know where to go, I just know I am not supposed to be where I am."


The stranger put his hand on Jon's back, and for some odd reason, it instantly came together. Jon understood what he needed, what his life was lacking, this man had brought him something that he had never truly known, he recognized the feeling, he had felt it before, but never so genuine.


He stopped crying, but the tears remained.


The stranger stood up, and reaching into his pocket, pulled out a train ticket, and extended his hand, offered it to Jon.


"Run Jon, I promise this ticket will bring you what you so desperately desire, Oh Jon, you have so much potential, remember what has happened today, do not let these feelings escape you, if you hold on to what you have learned, you can escape your past. There will be suffering, be sure of that, but if you simply take this ticket, you will have leaped over the largest hurdle you will face."


Jon reached out towards the ticket which the stranger still held, unflinching. Jon's hand slightly withdrew, but then grasped it. That is when he noticed the hands, and felt a peace unlike any other he had ever felt.


Jon wiped the fluid from his eyes and stood, but to his surprise his new friend was gone. Jon sat and stared intently at the ticket for the next few hours.


Night fell, and Jon sat there, still, until the train arrived. He stood, and began towards the train, then hesitation. Something stopped him, a whisper, almost audible. "You don't stand a chance, you will end up right where  you started anyways, so don't waste your time, but then Jon remembered the hands. A small, almost painful smile befell his face, he clenched the ticket firmly in his hand, and boarded the train.

Why People Get Low n' Slap Ho's

So, I have been listening to a bit more rap music lately, a little less mos def though and a little more jay-z! Good stuff, but it has caused me to have a revelation. I realize now why the rap/hip-hop trend is so very popular among todays youth (and middle aged Hispanic men...respect). The reason it is so widely admired and followed so fervently with such ardor is because it is such an easy scene to follow! The music is very instructional and commanding, so you don't have to really worry about whether you are doing things right!

For example, if you are an avid follower of the rap/hip-hop scene, you know you will earn some respect if you keep your shoulders clean of excess dust, as Jay-Z instructs, "If yo feelin' like a pimp, nigga go and dust yo shouldas off!" So, before this song came about, all the adherents of rap were walking around looking like a bunch of fools with dirty "shoulda's," but thanks to Jay, they are now with it.

Not only does rap music teach you how to be a pimp, but it teaches you how to dance, (crank dat soulja boy, Jerk, get low, etc.), it teaches you what the ladies like, (candy shops n' lollie pops), and it teaches you what the life of a G entails, so that you may also one day be a G. Apparently you need to learn to, "smoke that tumble weed," and to "throw some D's on that B****," (to furnish your vehicle with Dayton Rims). You must, "ride dirty," whilst sippin, "Patron on Ice" and "Git Crunk" and "Snap yo Fingas!" There is so much to learn, and there are so many great teachers!

So, this then got me thinking, how come the other scene's don't have as much instruction? I honestly think that the heralds of these scenes are really missing that boat, and they will soon lose all their followers to RAP!

I think I can give them a boost. So, we will start with those northern California hipster kids. Let's get Fleet Foxes or Band of Horses to write something like this,

oooooooh...
admire owls they are so wise
cut your pants above your thighs
smoke american spirits, preferably mild
and don't forget to read into the wild.

See, it is that easy.. Or we have the "Christcore" kids. The kids who love hardcore music almost as much as they love Jesus, Underoath, you can spearhead this but here is a start.

Scripture chest tattoos,
Super Deep V knecks
one inche plugs
with double peirced lip!

Or, you got that mellow acoustic beach crew, normally following Jack Johnson, John Mayer, and Jason Mraz. Any one of those is a great candidate to help these kids out.

soft acoustic guitars make me feel so warm,
my pants are baggy and worn and torn
rainbow sandals and fedoras too
make me look so good when I'm on the sand with you!
oooooohhh.....

You get the gist of it, I don't have time to help out all the scenesters, so emo, indie, and punk kids your on your own. All i'm trying to do here is stop the impending monopolization of Rap over the youth due to their superior skills in instructional music. Good luck!

Long Time No Post. (Curse Undulation.)

Life has been distracting lately. Since Zimbabwe a lot has been going on in me. Lot's of ups and downs, so much so i feel like i'm going through menopause or something! (minus the hot flashes). Anyways, I'm sure it is a casualty of going on such an emotionally intense trip like that.

Upon returning the enemy spared no time in executing his attacks on us. I had this mindset, that once I got home things would be dramatically different for me. I would be a new man, changed for the good to go out and do God's work until it killed me. foolishly I was overconfident, and the fall was hard. I didn't talk much about the trip, other than to people who went. I didn't think anyone else would really understand. So, before I knew it, I was forgetting all of the things that God revealed to me on the trip. I spent a few weeks just really confused, wondering why I felt so discontent. I began to blame it on other things and just grow more and more distracted. I hated my job, nay, loathed it. Going to work, was like being sent to the inferno for me. I decided that the reason I was so unfulfilled was because I was living a boring life. When I should have realized that it was because I had stopped seeking God's guidance on my return. It was almost as if the enemy had dirtied the window through which i speak and listen to God, and was hiding on the other side pretending to be him.

But God loves me too much. Things got better after our first debriefing meeting. I realized i wasn't the only one hurting and was able to reminisce about our trip again. It was the perfect tonic for my ailment, and from there on, things began to progress. I trying to be more optimistic about everything that God had blessed my with, (namely my job), and I spent less time pouring all the time I have into getting out of the house to forget my problems, and more time in solitude, seeking after what God wants me to do next. (I had forgotten all about this blog, which I had originally designed to use as an outlet for my thoughts upon returning).

So things were better for a while, I was spending more consistent time in the word than ever before, and I was still trying my best to be content. But, undulation is as undulation  does. So lately, I have just been falling back into that cursed rut. Feeling a need for something greater, discontent in different areas in my life, longing for stuff which will come in time, but not just yet. I know that I need to just put give it all up to God, it's just a matter of doing it and moving on. It's a rough procedure, It's literally like that age old fable of the angel and devil on each shoulder whispering truths and lies into each ear. It grows tiresome, but I have faith that in time God will bring clarity, and contentment. Until then, I will just keep seeking after him! (and keep on putting up new posts!)

~Jeremiah 29:11~

Sill on Life???

As many of you (seven to be more precise), know I used to blog about film of late. That was all good, and I plan on getting back on the ball with that and writing some more reviews for my dedicated fans, but i decided to start this, my second blog, so that I can write about things that I run into every day that i find interesting, ridiculous, or intriguing, but that have nothing to do with showbizzz!

As I finish my first year in college, I am faced with a major decision (no pun intended). For those of you who are savvy enough understand what I'm talking about, I applaud you. For everyone else, the problem I face is the life altering decision of choosing a major, (because once you choose, THERE'S NO GOING BACK!). Anyways, before I loose all of your attention, and therefore any chance at a fan-base, I will "cut to the chase."

I am really leaning towards a major in English now, as opposed to one in film. I believe a degree in English opens    a variety of doors, whereas film leads down one narrow road that is filled with tigers. Not to say that my dreams of making movies are canned. As of now, the best case scenario is that I major in English, hone my writing skills, become a professor at a prestigious university, and write my fair share of novels and screenplays.

Let's face it though, life is filled with curve balls. You never know what God has planned for you, (overkill statement, but true). I just pray that whatever I end up majoring in and building a career in, I can do it for his glory, and I believe that God can do great things through me with an English degree.

So, why is this all relevant to me starting a new blog? Well, the way I see it, the more I write, the better I will get. So this blog is here for me to throw up anything from social commentary's, intriguing psychological discoveries, short stories, day to day anecdotes, or just to share what God has been revealing to me lately.

It may suck, or it may change the course of your life forever, either way, I'm here. So, I hereby order you to follow me, and my strings of informal ramblings, and well constructed essays...this post being the former.

peace, Austin.